


Esperanza

by SayuriMay200



Series: Esperanza [1]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22433701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SayuriMay200/pseuds/SayuriMay200
Summary: When Hector puts his life on the line for her, Imelda is forced to come to terms with her true feelings for him.A romantic, emotional pre-canon Coco fanfiction covering the relationship between a young Hector and Imelda Rivera at the point when they realise and explore their true feelings for each other. Covering how Hector got his iconic guitar, his and Imelda's backgrounds, their first kiss... and potentially a bit more!Warning: Adult content.Please excuse my Spanish. I don't speak a word of it and had a lot of help from Google!
Relationships: Héctor Rivera & Imelda Rivera, Héctor Rivera/Imelda Rivera
Series: Esperanza [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618438
Kudos: 28





	1. El amor duele

Imelda couldn’t remember a time when she had been so angry.

Realising that her face was wet with tears, she scrubbed angrily at her eyes with her sleeve, praying internally that she wouldn’t bump into Héctor _now_ of all times. She wouldn’t want that waste-of-space _músico_ to see her getting upset over him. No- she wasn’t upset over him, she was upset at herself. Angry that she could be so stupid as to fall for the charms of some two-timing, skinny little fool, with his stupid guitar and his falling-apart straw hat, and that stupid little dimple in his cheek when he smiled at her… and the way those big, chestnut-brown eyes lit up whenever she smiled back at him…

She paused to catch her breath, leaning against a tree to steady herself and regain her composure. She smoothed her hand through her hair and lowered her heavy basket to the ground, trying to slow her breathing through gritted teeth and willing her eyes to stop leaking.

_“Ah yes, amigo, did you hear Héctor playing in the plaza this morning? Then you saw the new love of his life? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy, sitting there in the square with the beautiful Esperanza in his arms… ah, what wonderful music they make together!”_

Ernesto’s words echoed through her head as he laughed with his friends, the way he had raised his voice slightly when he realised that Imelda was there… the way he had _smirked_ when he saw the stung expression on her face… the laughter of the men around him…

_“Ah, Isabella!”_

Ernesto always got her name wrong. Imelda was sure he did it just to wind her up, although now she wondered if perhaps he really was confusing her with other girls. His smug voice and twisted smile, the feigned surprise on his face as he pretended that he had only just spotted her, all taunted her as she tried to stop her mind from replaying his words.

_“Are you looking for Héctor? He’s in the plaza with Esperanza this morning. Has he not introduced you to her yet? Ah yes, she’s beautiful, he’s been singing love songs all morning with her. Why don’t you go and meet her for yourself? I’m sure you’ll agree, they’re the perfect match!”_

Imelda covered her eyes, willing her mind to stop spinning. She didn’t usually go to the taverna on her way to the market, but today she’d had to deliver a note to her father. After checking that he wasn’t there, she had gone to give the note to Andre the barkeep for when her father dropped by later, only to find Ernesto and his friends standing around the bar instead. She knew that Ernesto was not her biggest fan. He resented the amount of time that Héctor had been spending with her, and how she apparently ‘distracted’ him from his songwriting- although Héctor fiercely denied this, arguing that Imelda was his inspiration. Well apparently she wasn’t the only one. Imelda, Isabella, Esperanza… and goodness knows how many others? She couldn’t believe how stupid she had been. Stupid, naïve, gullible…

“Imelda! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Oh no. She knew that voice. She had spent the rest of her morning getting her groceries as quickly as possible, avoiding speaking to anyone and just trying to make herself as unnoticeable as she could. He was the last person she wanted to see, especially when she was in this state. She brushed the tears from her cheeks, seized her basket and marched purposely in the direction of home, away from the tall, lean figure who was jogging to catch her up. Héctor, however, seemed oblivious to her desire to get away from him, lolloping towards her like an excitable puppy who was simply delighted to see her.

“Hey Imelda, wait up! I’ve been looking all over for you, where have you been? I thought you were coming to the square, then when you didn’t come I thought I’d go and look for you on our usual route, but nobody seemed to have seen you and - oh never mind, it doesn’t matter, I’ve found you now! Can I carry your basket for you? It looks heavy, you should’ve waited for me to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“I don’t help you because you need me to. I help you because I want to.” Héctor smiled at her warmly, apparently oblivious to Imelda’s icy stare. “I’ve got something to show you, look! You know that guitar I was saving up for, the white one? Well look what I got yesterday! It’s not quite as good as the one I was after, but it’s in great condition for second-hand, and it’s got a great tone, and look, the previous owner has hand-painted all these flowers on the-“

Héctor’s voice faltered as Imelda swung around to face him, fury rising in her cheeks.

“Oh yes, Héctor. I’ve heard all about all the fun you’ve been having in the plaza. In fact, I suggest that you return there as soon as possible, before any of your fan club miss you. And you know what? They’re welcome to you.” She fought to keep her voice steady, but her words wobbled with fury. She realised that she was trembling with anger, her fists clenched so tight around the handle of her basket that she was surprised it hadn’t snapped in two.

Héctor stared at her, his eyes confused and pleading.

“Imelda, please, what’s wrong? I thought- I thought-“

“You thought.” She snapped coldly at him. “Well so did I. It seems that we were both wrong.”

“Imelda, please… mi amore… I don’t understand, have I done something to hurt you? Talk to me, let me put it right… I’d do anything for you…” He reached out to take her hand, but she snatched it away.

“Anything? Good. Then leave me alone. I never want to see your stupid face again.” Imelda stormed away in the direction of her parents’ home, keeping her head down so that he couldn’t see the tears that were welling up in her eyes again. She didn’t dare turn back to look at the figure standing frozen and helpless behind her, a forlorn look of pain and confusion on his face. Acting, she reminded herself, nothing more. The moment she was out of sight he would be back in the plaza, dancing with this ‘Esperanza’ and enjoying himself as though she had never existed. Whoever this new girl was, she was welcome to him.

It was only half a mile more, and she would be home. Imelda started thinking about what she would say to her mother. Could she claim that she was feeling unwell, so that she could hide in her room until she felt more able to face the world again? No, she knew her mother- she would fuss over her, insisting upon sponging her forehead and feeding her broth, sending for the doctor and coming in to check her temperature every five minutes. No, feigning illness would be a mistake. She could always offer to do the laundry, which would at least allow her a bit of privacy and fresh air, sitting out by the stream… but then, that was often where she would meet Héctor in the cool evenings when he had finished his work on the farm. He would play his guitar and sing to her, sometimes making her laugh with his silly songs, or making her heart flutter when he sang about love, staring at her with those soft eyes while his gentle voice seemed to seep into her very soul. She would try to keep her face expressionless, but her eyes always gave her away, and she knew that she couldn’t hide what she was feeling from him…

She forced herself back to the moment. No, she couldn’t use the excuse of doing laundry. It was too painful. She would have to think of something else. Maybe-

“Buenos días, señorita Imelda.”

Imelda jumped and whirled around to confront whoever was addressing her, silently cursing herself for not paying more attention to her surroundings. She would never usually have allowed her mind to drift to the point where she failed to notice a stranger sneaking up on her, especially a man. Yet here he was… and, she realised with a jolt, he knew her name.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Hernandez Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imelda runs into trouble. Will Hector get to her in time?

"Buenos días, señor. Do I know-" Imelda stopped short as she suddenly recognised the man she was addressing. "You! You've got a nerve, showing your face around here!"

Roberto Hernandez. He was a labourer on her father's farm, or at least he had been until three days ago. Imelda couldn't remember the last time she had seen her papa so angry. Jose could not deny that he had received the odd complaint about Roberto's behaviour- bullying the younger workers, regularly turning up in the morning with the smell of Tequila already on his breath, and occasionally taking siestas when he should've been working, forcing the younger men to cover for him and threatening violence towards them and their families if they told anyone. Imelda had been less than impressed when she eventually found out, not least because Héctor had turned out to be one of the targets of Roberto's bullying behaviour. She and her mother Helena had both pleaded with Jose to put his foot down and take control of the situation, but in spite of all of Roberto's failings, Jose had been reluctant to get rid of him. He was strong and experienced, and there was no denying that in spite of his unpleasant behaviours he could do any physical work in half the time it took many of the younger men. Besides which, Jose and he had been friends as children. Although Roberto had changed much since those days, Jose could not forget how being friends with the biggest, strongest boy in the class had often saved him from becoming the target of bullies, and even thieves on one or two occasions. Despite the protests of both Helena and Imelda, both of whom felt uncomfortable in his presence, Jose felt that he owed Roberto a debt. Giving him a job after he had fallen on hard times was the least he could do.

Jose's attitude towards his old friend had changed dramatically, though, when he realised that Roberto's bullying tendencies had begun to spread beyond just his co-workers. For weeks, Helena had been worried that she was going mad- an earring missing here, a gold chain there. She didn't often wear jewellery, it was impractical when she was trying to work around the house, but she was certainly aware of the value of it and had never been careless before about putting it away in the little wooden box under her bed before she went to sleep. It was only when she had caught Oscar red-handed, sneaking out of her room with one of her precious rings in his hand, that she had realised where her misplaced jewellery had been disappearing to. It took only a few minutes of interrogation before Felipe cracked and confessed everything. The boys had been accosted by Roberto as they walked through the field on their way to school. He needed money fast, and Oscar and Felipe were going to give it to him, or suffer the consequences. At first he was satisfied with their meagre pocket money and the odd pennies that they earned by running errands and doing little jobs around the farm, but he soon tired of their paltry earnings and started to set his sights on bigger prizes: their mother's jewellery. If the twins didn't deliver, they would pay the price in other ways. Imelda had felt sick when she realised what had been under her nose the whole time. That limp Oscar had developed when he claimed to have fallen while climbing a tree. Felipe's black eye after the playground fight with the boy whose name he mysteriously couldn't remember. Why both boys suddenly started begging Jose to take them with him whenever he went into town, rather than leaving them alone on the farm to play under the supervision of Roberto and the other farmhands. It suddenly all made sense.

Imelda had deliberately taken the boys into town so that they didn't have to be there the following morning when her father confronted Roberto, but the terrified silence of both her mother and the other farmhands for the rest of the day had been enough to tell her that it hadn't been a pleasant conversation. From what Imelda could gather, Jose had the other farmhands search Roberto's belongings until they recovered the missing jewellery, which Roberto had presumably intended to sell in order to fuel his spiralling drink problem. Some of the other men had been reluctant to touch anything of Roberto's for fear of inciting his wrath, but Héctor was so angry at hearing how he had treated Imelda's family that he had no problems tearing apart the older man's belongings in search of the missing gold. His efforts had been rewarded when he found a hidden pocket sewn into Roberto's bag, which sure enough contained Helena's earrings, gold chain and a few other pieces which she hadn't even realised were missing. There was even jewellery belonging to Imelda in there, a pretty red ruby on a black ribbon which she'd been given by one of her more showy, flamboyant suitors.

Upon being presented with the evidence, Jose had told a furious Roberto in no uncertain terms that he was to leave the premises immediately and never return. He had been tearful as he hugged his sons upon their return that afternoon, apologising over and over for not realising sooner what had been going on, promising them that they were now safe and would never have to face Roberto again.

Yet here he was. Large, imposing and stinking even worse than usual of alcohol, he stood before Imelda in his grubby greyish-white vest and filthy trousers that were worn through at the knees. His dark tangled hair looked as though it hadn't seen a comb in years, his unshaven face was speckled with rough black and grey hairs, and while he was smiling broadly at Imelda through blackened teeth, his eyes were icy cold. She was not afraid, though- her anger towards him was too strong to allow any room for fear.

"It is good to see you, señorita. I've been waiting." His voice was a low growl, a mixture of amusement and venom.

"The only thing you should be waiting for, señor, is the next train out of this town. You wait until my father finds out that you've dared showed your face again here. He-"

"He was the one I was waiting for. My brother and I were hoping to have a little word with him. It seems we owe him a little... reminder. Of what it means to have me as a friend. And what a mistake he has made by throwing away that friendship. It's a shame." Imelda started as she realised the presence of a second man, slightly taller and thinner, standing in the shade of the trees behind his brother. "Meet my brother Bartoli. Where are those brothers of yours, señorita? Are they not with you? I was rather hoping to deliver a message to them, too. You see, they broke a promise to me when they went squealing to their Mamá, but I wanted to remind them... of what a promise means. A little life lesson, if you will. Because I made them a promise to them in return, you see, and Roberto always keeps his promises." The thinner man laughed quietly, cracking his knuckles against the palm of his other hand. The sound made Imelda's teeth hurt.

"You will stay away from my brothers, and my father too," she spat. "We all know what sort of a man you really are, and by now the whole town will know-"

Roberto and his brother laughed.

"The thing is señorita, you are right of course. I would not have agreed with you before, but now, seeing you here, I realise it. I don't need your father or your brothers. I was expecting to find Jose here with a couple of those pathetic weaklings he likes to employ; I was prepared for myself and Bartoli here to have to fight them all, although I don't expect it would've been much of a challenge for us. And then instead, you turned up. So sweet, and young, and... alone."

Imelda suddenly felt as though she had been plunged into ice-cold water. Her brain told her to run, but her legs seemed to have turned to lead. She couldn't move.

"I spent so long thinking about how I would like to hurt your father. Which weapon I could use to hurt him most. Now I understand... it's standing right in front of me."

Roberto lunged forward and grabbed Imelda by the wrist, shocking her out of her temporary paralysis. She screamed, tearing her boot from her foot and lashing out at his face, the heel connecting with his cheekbone before he had even seen it coming. He snarled with fury, releasing her wrist, but before she could run two large hands grabbed her arms from behind and dragged her backwards. She screamed again as Bartoli roughly shoved her back up against a tree, positioning himself behind her so that he could hold on to her wrists, twisting them until tears sprung to her eyes. Roberto's fist flew out of nowhere, connecting with the side of her face and knocking the breath out of her. Her ears ringing, she felt him clap a dirty hand over her mouth, bending down so close to her that she could feel his hot breath on her face.

"You scream again, señorita, and you'll get another one of those. Nobody can hear you here. There's nothing you can do. Now be a good girl and do as you're told, and I won't make this any more unpleasant for you than it has to be."

He took his hand from her mouth and placed it instead on her knee, brushing the fabric of her skirt aside. Imelda fought the urge to be sick as his fingers crawled up her thigh, his other hand snaking around her waist as he moved his body closer to hers. His face lowered towards her, and she could smell his sour breath as he brought his lips to meet hers. Imelda saw her chance. She bit down as hard as she could on his lip, jamming her knee up in between his legs as she did so. Roberto howled with pain, swearing as he doubled over. Imelda tried to break free, but Bartoli still held her wrists from behind, twisting them with a hiss of anger as punishment for disobeying his brother's order. Roberto's face was purple with rage. One hand reached out and grabbed Imelda by the throat, while the other he balled into a fist, swinging it back in preparation to strike.

"You'll regret that, you vicious little witch!"

Imelda squeezed her eyes tight shut, bracing herself for the impact.

CRUNCH.

Imelda felt the hand disappear from her throat. There was a cry of surprise from behind her as she felt Bartoli release her wrists, throwing his hands up to protect his face from whatever was now standing in front of him. Imelda opened her eyes to find herself staring straight at the lean figure of Héctor, standing over Roberto who was crouched on the ground with his hands over his head. Large splinters of broken wood littered the ground, some sticking out of Roberto's hair, a handful of which Héctor had managed to grab from behind in an attempt to keep Roberto from standing back up. In his other hand he held the long, broken neck of a guitar, the splintered end of which he had thrust into the baffled face of Bartoli. He turned to her, a look of wild panic and desperation in his eyes.

"Imelda! Run!"


	3. Esperanza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector risks it all for Imelda.

Imelda tried to run, but her legs had turned to jelly. Her skirts were tangled around her legs, tripping her as she stumbled away from the trees, scrambling back towards the path on all-fours.

"Help! Somebody, help!" she screamed in the direction of the farm, praying that someone would hear her. _Dios_ , please... someone, anyone....

It took the brothers seconds to recover from their shock and overpower Héctor. Bartoli wrenched the remains of the broken guitar from his hand, effortlessly snapping the neck over his knee and tossing it aside. Roberto, meanwhile, had managed to break Héctor's grip on his hair. He seized the younger man by the front of his shirt, lifting him clean off the ground, before throwing him sprawling on the dusty path.

"Imelda... please... run..." Héctor gasped. The brothers were approaching him slowly, circling like wolves. "Run now... please..."

"Well, if it isn't Hungry Héctor." Roberto's voice was a low, deadly growl. "Hermano, let me introduce you to the nameless little nobody who so disrespectfully tore up my personal belongings the other day. Now here he is, once again poking his nose into matters which do not concern him."

Bartoli sneered. "You should've kept that guitar for the plaza, boy, rather than wasting it trying to play the hero."

Imelda felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. _Run_ , her brain screamed at her. _Run, while they're distracted, go and get help, they're going to kill him..._ but her body wouldn't move. She was frozen to the spot, powerless as the two men closed in on Héctor.

"It's a shame, boy." Roberto crouched down next to Héctor, grabbing him by his neck tie and dragging his face so close than their noses were almost touching. "Useless as you were as a farmhand, I will miss listening to your music in the plaza. Still, there are plenty of _músicos_ around here. I suppose someone will come along soon who can play as well as you... and hopefully they won't be as stupid. It's tragic when the talented die so young."

Roberto struck Héctor's cheekbone with his fist, sending him flying back into the dust. Then Bartoli was there too, a large stone in his hand, driving a booted foot hard into Héctor's ribcage. Both men laughed as Héctor cried out in pain, his hands covering his face as he lay helpless on the ground, blow after blow smashing into his defenceless body. The following minutes were a blur to Imelda as she watched with horror, tears streaming down her cheeks. _Do something!_ Her head screamed at her. _Don't just sit there, they're killing him!_ Héctor's cries turned to whimpers, his eyes closed, and Imelda could see blood pouring down his face and soaking his shirt from a painful-looking wound near his temple. His face relaxed as he slipped in and out of consciousness, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Let me finish him." Roberto held up a hand to his brother, who stepped away from Héctor's crumpled body, dropping the bloodstained stone he had been using as a weapon. The larger man stooped down and rolled Héctor onto his back, forcing Héctor to look up at him through bleary, half-conscious eyes. "Time's up, _músico_. You should've known better than to disrespect the Hernandez family. I warned you enough times. _Adios_."

Héctor's eyes widened as Roberto gritted his teeth and raised his fist above his head. Then Imelda saw it- the glint of silver catching the sunlight, shining in Roberto's hand. He was holding a knife.

"NO!" Before she knew what she was doing, Imelda scrambled forwards, throwing herself at Roberto with as much force as she could manage. She held tight to his wrist with one hand, trying to force the knife away from Héctor, using her other hand to beat Roberto's head and face, anywhere she could reach, over and over with the heel of the boot she hadn't even realised she was holding. Bartoli sprang forward and seized her around the waist from behind, dragging her off his brother and hurling her to the ground, but not before she had managed to throw her head back hard against his nose with a loud crack. He lumbered towards her as she lay on the ground, and she prepared herself to aim a swift kick to his private regions the second he came within range. However, before she could do so, he suddenly stopped. His eyes were fixed on something behind her, a look of sweaty panic on his face.

"Time to go, brother!" she heard him hiss. Turning his back on her, he scrambled back towards Roberto, dragging him to his feet and away back towards the trees.

"There they are! Señorita Imelda, hold on, we're coming!"

Imelda was vaguely aware of her father's men charging towards her, armed with pitchforks, hoes, shovels and anything else they had been able to lay hands on when they had heard her scream. There were seven or eight of them, a few of them surrounding herself and Héctor, others running into the trees after the fleeing Hernandez brothers.

"Señorita, you're bleeding, look at your hand..." Imelda pushed them away, struggling to her feet. She had not taken her eyes off the limp body on the path, lying there on his side in the dust. She stumbled over to him, pushing away the other men who were bending over him.

"Héctor... no, please..." Imelda fell to her knees beside him and cradled his head in her arms. Her hand pressed against his chest, searching for a sign that he was breathing, a heartbeat, anything. His hair was orange from the dust on the path, his face barely recognisable underneath layers of dirt and blood. His temple was still bleeding profusely, and she could already see a large bruise rising underneath his left eye from where Roberto had punched him. She could feel the bones of his ribcage through his blood-soaked shirt, and realised with a surge of relief that they were rising and falling irregularly with each painful breath. _He's alive_ , she told herself. _He's hurt, but he's alive_. Her hand found his, and she raised it to her lips, kissing his fingers before holding it tight against her own aching heart. She felt him gently squeeze her hand in return.

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She could hear the voices of the men around her, although she couldn't process anything they were saying. Someone was sobbing. It took a minute for her to realise that it was her. Someone put a warm arm around her shoulder, and a gentle voice rumbled comfortingly in her ear.

"Señorita Imelda. We need to get you and Héctor back to the house. Rafael has brought the cart, we have sent a message back to your Mamá to prepare her. Will you step away for a moment so that we can lift Héctor into the cart? We promise, we'll be very gentle with him."

Imelda nodded silently. A strong arm helped her to her feet, which she realised were now bare. One of her boots lay beside the path from when she had been trying to fight Roberto, while the other was still over by the trees. As a few of the men lifted Héctor's limp form gently into the waiting cart, Imelda noticed for the first time how her hand was stinging. Looking down at it, she realised that she had cut it somehow- she guessed that Roberto had caught her a glancing blow with the knife as she was trying to wrestle it from his hand. Where was it now? Did he still have it? And more importantly, had he managed to use it on Héctor while she was fighting off his brother? Imelda felt sick again. She tried to take a few deep breaths and calm herself down, reminding herself firmly that she would be of no use to Héctor in this state. One of the younger boys, Daniel, retrieved her boots for her, along with the basket which still contained her shopping, and something that he had carefully gathered up in a blanket. Her heart sank as he brought it over to her.

" _Lo... lo siento señorita..._ but what should I do with this?" He shuffled apologetically as he opened the blanket to show her the broken, splintered remains of a guitar. She took it from him, unable to find the words to reply.

"Ay, that is a shame." One of the men sighed, shaking his head. "He only got that yesterday. Someone had gone to the trouble of hand-painting it too, all these brightly coloured flowers. It was a work of art, that instrument."

"Ah _si_ , I saw him playing it in the plaza," joined in another man. "Someone did almost as beautiful a job in painting that guitar as he did playing it. It will be a great loss to him."

" _Si,_ " replied the first man, placing another blanket around Imelda's shoulders and helping her gently into the cart beside Héctor. "But I stand by what I said yesterday- a guitar is only as good as the mariachi playing it. You can decorate it any way you like, name it whatever you want, although I will still never understand why some sentimental _idiotas_ feel the need to name their instruments. But a guitar only becomes truly beautiful when the right fingers are strumming it."

Imelda unfolded the bundle of broken guitar pieces in her lap, turning the broken pieces of wood over in her hands. Amongst the strings, tuning pegs and broken pieces of fretboard, brightly coloured flowers glowed out of the splintered wreckage. Bright yellow marigolds, blue forget-me-nots, pink roses with delicate green leaves... and there, ornately painted up the neck in striking letters of black and gold... a name.

_Esperanza_


	4. Herida De Amor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imelda faces the consequences.

“Imelda? Are you listening to me?”

“Si, Mamá.”

“What did I just say?”

Imelda sighed. Her mind was still spinning. While she was grateful to her Mamá for cleaning and dressing her injured hand, the longer her Helena spent fussing over her, the more times she forced her to explain again what had happened, the longer Héctor was lying there along with nobody to care for him.

“Rafael is going to take you and some of the men into town on the cart to find Papa, collect the twins from school and speak to the policía about what has happened. The rest of the men will continue the search party for Roberto and his brother.”

“And you?”

“I will remain here in the barn and take care of Héctor. I will bolt the doors from the inside and will not allow anybody in until someone comes to tell me that it is safe.”

“…with the secret code word, to prove that they are genuine,” finished Helena. “I have put everything that you might need here in the barn, so you have no reason to return to the house. It’s not safe for any of us to be there until we know that the Hernandez brothers are safely behind bars. I would really prefer for you to come with me, I think you would be much safer. You’ve been through enough already today.”

“Héctor just saved my life. I will not leave him now when he needs me.”

Helena huffed and rolled her eyes. As grateful as she was to Héctor, she shouldn’t need to remind Imelda that he was hardly a suitable match for her. Imelda was a beautiful young lady from a respectable family, with a good name and excellent prospects. Several handsome young men from important, well-thought-of families had already expressed interest in becoming her husband, but Imelda had turned every one of them away. Some, Helena recalled with a grimace, with the help of a boot in their face. Her daughter did not appreciate the amorous advances of those men who tried to impress her with their money or their flashy clothes. Instead, for some reason that Helena couldn’t fathom, the only man that had ever made Imelda’s eyes light up was the skinny orphan boy who played his guitar in the plaza.

Never mind a respectable family, or a good name- Héctor didn’t even _have_ a name. Found abandoned as a tiny baby, he’d always just been known as Hungry Héctor due to his skinny appearance. He lived in the slum area on the outskirts of Santa Cecilia, sharing a room with a few other boys he had befriended during his time in the orphanage. Yes, they all called each other _primo_ or _hermano_ , but they weren’t really related- it was just a way of comforting themselves for having no real family. Héctor had no money besides what he earned from playing in the plaza or doing odd jobs around the farm for her Imelda’s father, no property beyond a few second hand items of clothing and his guitar. And now, Helena remembered, he didn’t even have that. She felt a slight pang of guilt. Yes, it could not be denied that Héctor had a heart of gold. He was so talented, and so kind, not just to Imelda but to everyone. Everybody liked him. Helena certainly owed him a debt now, after he not only recovered her missing jewellery, but also saved Imelda from a fate she couldn’t even bring herself to contemplate. Still, that didn’t mean that he was now good enough to court her daughter.

Despite her reservations, Helena knew better than to argue with Imelda today. Normally she would’ve refused to leave her daughter alone with any man in such a private setting, but one look at Héctor had told her that she need not worry about her daughter’s honour. The poor boy hadn’t even opened his eyes since Rafael and the others had carried him down from the cart and laid him on a bed of hay bales in the barn, using folded blankets as a pillow for his head. Even if she had protested, Helena knew that Imelda would have flatly refused to stand back and allow someone else to nurse Héctor in her place. It had been hard enough convincing her daughter to allow anyone to dress her wounded hand. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Helena was terrified. She had never seen Imelda so devastated, even when her darling _Abuela_ passed into the next life. She didn’t know what Imelda would do if she lost her friend Héctor too. To make matters worse, while Helena would’ve been more than happy to pay for the doctor to come to Héctor under the circumstances, the only doctor in Santa Cecilia was currently out of town and would not be back until at least tomorrow. Helena tried to tell herself that her daughter’s heart was only breaking due to her sense of guilt- not that she _should_ feel guilt for what those Hernandez cabróns had done, but she knew that Imelda was punishing herself anyway for being the cause of Héctor’s sacrifice. Helena suspected deep down that there were stronger feelings than guilt causing Imelda’s current distress, but she wisely decided that this was an argument that she would save for another day.

“Right, we are leaving now. You bolt this door, and you do not open it…”

“Until someone comes with the code word. Si, Mamá, I know.”

Imelda closed the huge barn door, barring it shut with the large wooden beam that she was only just strong enough to lift, and slid the heavy iron bolts into place for good measure. She breathed a sigh of relief. Mamá was right, nobody would think to look for her here, and even if they did they would never be able to get into the fortress that was her father’s barn. All of the animals had been put out to pasture already and the farmhands had cleaned and swept the barn that morning, so aside from the scratching of mice up in the rafters, all was quiet.

She walked slowly over to where Héctor was lying still on his bed of hay bales. Helena had indeed left everything that he might need- bowls of water, blankets, clean cloths, bandages, food, an oil lamp, some of her father’s old clean clothes, even alcohol for cleaning wounds and preventing infection. Imelda knelt beside Héctor and placed a trembling hand on his chest, feeling comfort again in his laboured breathing. _No, it’s not easy, but at least he is breathing,_ she reminded herself. Perhaps it would help if she removed his necktie. She fumbled clumsily with the knot, cursing her fingers for shaking. She gently loosened the cloth and tossed it aside. At least it was red, so the blood didn’t show up as starkly as it did on his once-white shirt.

 _Warm water for washing off the blood, cold for reducing the bruising_ , she reminded herself. Picking out a clean cloth from the pile, she soaked it in the warm water before wringing it out and beginning to gently sponge away the dirt on his hands and lower arms, which thankfully seemed to have escaped with nothing worse than a few scrapes here and there. Next, she moved on to the blood around Héctor’s temple. She traced the damp cloth down the side of his face, over his cheekbones, down around his lower jaw and neck until she reached his collar. For someone who had been such an awkward-looking teenager, he really had become quite a handsome man, and Imelda could feel her cheeks turning pink as she stroked his jawline with her cloth. She remembered that he was usually very sensitive around his neck and ears- occasionally when she had absent-mindedly straightened his collar or adjusted his necktie, he had crumpled like a ticklish child at her touch. _If he wasn’t already unconscious_ , she thought with a slight smile, _he’d probably have fainted anyway at what I’m doing to him now_.

The water in the bowl began to turn a brownish pink as she continued her task, gently washing away any traces of blood and dirt from Héctor’s face and neck. He was starting to look more like the Héctor she knew again now. Pale, yes, and bruised in places, but unmistakeably still her Héctor. She gently combed his hair with her fingers, placing a cold damp cloth across his forehead to reduce the swelling from the wound on his temple. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at his chest.

Until now, it had been easy to tell herself that Héctor’s injuries weren’t too bad. She couldn’t help but remember, though, that for most of his ordeal Héctor had kept his arms and hands up covering his face and head. Most of those vicious blows- the fists, the boots, the stone- had been delivered to his body. She couldn’t tell through his filthy, bloodstained shirt how bad it was, but she tried to prepare herself for the worst as she unfastened his braces from his waistband, took a deep breath and gently began to unfasten the first few buttons of his shirt.

Her heart dropped.

Héctor’s collarbone was already turning to a purplish-red, with bruising stretching almost from shoulder to shoulder. His soft skin stretched tight over his ribs, which were rising and falling awkwardly with each shuddering breath, a patchwork of bruising mixed with smudges of the blood that had soaked through his shirt from his head wound. A large, weeping graze poked out from the hollow beneath his breastbone, disappearing down towards his navel beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt. His whole chest was covered with tiny cuts and scratches, which Imelda supposed were from when he had been thrown onto the path. Shuddering at the memory, she began to clean the dirt and blood from his chest, taking care not to put any unnecessary pressure on his bruised ribs.

What had he been thinking, taking on two men like Roberto and Bartoli Hernandez? Individually, they were twice his size and strength. As far as she knew, Héctor had never won a fight in his life. The Hernandez brothers had been starting and winning fights since they were tiny children. What on Earth had made him think that he could take on either of them, let alone both at once?

 _He didn’t_ , the voice in her head told her. _He wasn’t fighting because he thought there was any chance he could win. He knew they were going to kill him. He was fighting to save you, to buy you time to get away_.

He made the choice to fight for her, knowing that he could’ve died. He nearly did. Might still, if he had internal damage that she couldn’t see. All to give her time to escape. And what did she do? Just sat there and watched.

Warm tears trickled down her cheeks and splashed onto Héctor’s bare chest. _¡Dios mío!_ Imelda couldn’t remember the last time she had cried, probably around five years ago when her _Abuela_ had died. She just wasn’t a tearful person. It wasn’t that she wasn’t emotional, she just usually had a good handle on her emotions. Most of the time she just channelled any emotions she felt into anger, which was the one feeling she knew how to deal with best. She hardly ever actually cried, no matter how much she was hurting. Today, she felt as though she’d been doing it all day. At least nobody could see her now.

Sighing with exhaustion, she let the tears fall. As gently as she could, she rested her head on Héctor’s chest, pressing her ear against his thudding heart. What made her guilt worse, if that was even possible, was that before all this she had been angry with him. She had stood him up in the plaza, rejected the opportunity to spend the day with him. She told him she never wanted to see his face again. If he had died during that attack, if he died tonight, those would’ve been the last words he ever heard from her. And it had all turned out to be rubbish. Ernesto had so easily manipulated her into believing that Héctor had another woman, and she had been stupid enough to believe it. She never even gave him a chance to explain.

“Oh Héctor, forgive me, mi amor,” she whispered into his chest, stroking the smooth skin stretching over his ribs. “What have they done to you, and all because of me? I’m so sorry. If only I could go back to this morning, to go to the plaza and hear you play like I promised. If only I’d let you explain, we could’ve spent the day together like we were supposed to, and then we wouldn’t have been on that road when- when-“ a sob escaped her. She turned her head, kissing his chest softly, tasting her own salty tears on his skin. “I shouted at you, I was horrible to you, but I never told you how I- how I really- Oh, Héctor… you have to be okay. Please. You just have to. I don’t know what I’d do without you, _mi amor_.” Her tears were flowing freely now. She kissed his chest again, twice, breathing in his soft scent, still stroking his skin with her fingers. Wiping her eyes, she sat up slowly, reaching for another clean cloth so that she could dry her face.

“Please, mi amore. Don’t stop. I was enjoying that.”

Imelda almost fell into her bowl of water. She looked up to see Héctor’s chestnut eyes staring blearily back at her, a gentle smile on his lips. His voice was weak, but his face was glowing.


	5. Three Little Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions run high between Hector and Imelda.

"Héctor! How much of that did you – I mean, how long have you...?"

"Ay, mi amore, not long enough. Please, continue saying such lovely things about me."

Imelda felt the heat rising in her cheeks. "I don't remember what I was saying. My mind is not clear, it's been a very hard day."

"Speak for yourself, Señorita. It's been the best day of my life. It's not every day I get to wake up to such affection from mi amore. Perhaps the day didn't start too well, but on balance, I think it was worth it." He took her hand, kissed it and pressed it to his heart, closing his eyes and sighing deeply.

"Héctor, this is not a joke." Imelda snatched her hand away, her anger starting to rise. "You almost died today. There were points when I thought I'd lost you." She felt her voice catch. "How could you be so stupid? Taking on two men like the Hernandez brothers, single-handedly. What on Earth were you thinking?"

"I thought that was obvious, Señorita." Héctor looked up at her with those big, sorrowful eyes. "I did what I had to do to save you."

"They weren't planning on killing me."

"I know what they were planning on doing to you. I couldn't allow it."

"So you thought that dying for my honour was a better idea?" Imelda felt her voice rising. "What if you'd died, Héctor? What would have happened then? They were going to kill you."

"Was I just supposed to stand there and let them do what they wanted to you? What kind of a man would that make me?"

"A LIVING one, Héctor! Which is something you are currently very lucky to be!" Imelda stood and began to pace furiously. "You think that my honour is more important to me than your life? You think that what they wanted to do to me today would've been harder to live with than losing you? _Idiota_!"

"You think I am an _idiota_ for trying to protect you?" It was Héctor's turn to start sounding annoyed now. "What about you? The last thing I remember was you throwing yourself at a mad, violent cabrón who was holding a knife!"

"What did you expect me to do?" Imelda shouted, tears flowing again. "Stand there and watch while he murdered the man I- I-"

She had said too much. She threw herself back on the hay-strewn floor, her hands over her face, her knees tucked up around her chin. She didn't dare look at Héctor.

"The man you... what? Imelda?" His voice was barely a whisper. He reached out a trembling hand and stroked her cheek, tilting her chin up to look at him. "Please. The man you... what? Say it."

"I think you already know what I mean. Don't torture me by making me say it out loud, Héctor."

"Please, mi amore. Don't be angry with me. You say I should know it already, but I don't. I don't know where I stand with you."

"I'm not angry." She moved closer to him, allowing him to brush the tears from her cheek with his thumb.

"You were this morning."

"Ah, that. That was my misunderstanding." She shifted guiltily under his quizzical gaze. "I... I saw Ernesto this morning, he was talking about you... the way he was talking, he led me to believe that you had a new love, you had been seen holding some beautiful girl in the square, enjoying singing love songs with her..."

"Other girl?" Héctor's face contorted into an expression of puzzlement. "Imelda, you know I would never look at any woman but you, why would you believe that-" He stopped, a look of dawning realisation crossing his face. "Ahh. Was she called Esperanza, by any chance?"

"Yes. Héctor, I'm so sorry. It didn't cross my mind that he could be talking about your new guitar, I thought that you-"

"You really thought that I would do that to you, Imelda? Do you not know me better than that by now?" He withdrew his hand from her face, placing it instead on his bruised chest with a grimace of pain. "Ernesto decided to wind you up, which I will be talking to him about. That is an inexcusable way to behave towards a lady, and he and I will be having words over it. But you... you should know better than to listen to him without even giving me the chance to explain myself. I have always made my feelings clear to you, Imelda, and I have never given you reason to doubt them. You are the only woman I want; you are the only woman I will ever want. You should at least trust me on that by now."

Imelda lowered her head, her cheeks burning with shame. He sounded so hurt. Anger she could deal with, but his disappointment in her was far worse. They were both silent for a moment. Then to her surprise, Héctor began to laugh.

"I will admit, mi amore," he gasped, holding his ribcage, "I can't help but be a little flattered that you got so jealous over me. Even if your imagined rival did turn out to be a guitar." He laughed again, his laughter quickly turning into a coughing fit which made him hiss through his teeth in pain, clutching at his chest.

Worried, Imelda moved towards him, taking his hand and squeezing it while she ran the fingers of her other hand through his hair. His face relaxed and he pulled her hand to his heart again, smiling gently, his eyes still closed. She stroked his bruised cheekbone, her heart fluttering when he nuzzled his face into her hand and placed a gentle kiss onto her wrist. She was forgiven.

"You're going to have quite a shiner of a black eye tomorrow, señor," she told him tenderly.

"We will match then, _mi amore_ ," he retorted, reaching up to stroke her own bruised cheek. She had forgotten about that. "Did he hurt you anywhere else?"

"Only my hand, I think he caught me slightly with the knife. It's a shallow cut though, it's really not a big deal, and my Mamá cleaned and dressed it already," she finished quickly, seeing his eyes narrow with worry. "It's nothing compared to what he did to you. You just wait until the _policía_ catch up with those _cabróns_. They'll be begging for their prison cells before I've finished with them."

"I don't envy them that," Héctor chuckled. Imelda suddenly felt a rush of warmth towards him. He was smiling again, laughing in spite of his pain. She had a sudden urge to kiss him.

"I think... I think you might have a few broken ribs," she told him, looking for an excuse to take her eyes away from his gaze before she became lost in it. "I was just cleaning you up a bit before you woke, you've got a nasty graze that needs dealing with too."

"Yes, I thought I might. That will be from that ugly _cabrón's_ boot. Well, don't let me stop you. Please feel free to fuss over me as much as you please." He closed his eyes, smiling.

 _Idiota,_ thought Imelda fondly. _In spite of all this, he's actually enjoying the attention._ She decided to tease him a little, brushing his hair out of his face before tracing her fingers down his cheek, over the sensitive spot on his neck. He breathed in sharply and shuddered, just as she suspected he would. Her fingers continued downwards, drifting over his bruised collarbone and down the side of his ribcage, dipping her hands under the folds of his half-open shirt to stroke the warm skin of his sides. She glanced up at his face to see that his cheeky grin had disappeared, replaced instead with a look she hadn't seen before. His face was relaxed but serious, his lips slightly parted, his breathing heavy. His hands, she realised, had grabbed handfuls of hay from the bales he was lying on, clinging to it tightly.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked gently. He shook his head and swallowed, keeping his eyes closed, his fingers still clinging to the hay beneath him. She took her warm cloth and stroked it over his lower ribs, taking particular care wherever she thought it might be sore. She repeated the process on the other side, carefully stroking her cloth down over his ribcage, reaching inside the fabric of his shirt to get to his sides, stroking his bruised skin with her cloth, with her fingers...

Héctor was almost panting now, his head slightly tilted back, his eyes still closed. Imelda realised that he was trembling. She lowered her head and kissed his chest, causing him to give a low whimper. She could feel his heart pounding against her lips, and knew that hers was doing the same.

"Héctor," she said, stroking his cheek. I'm going to deal with that graze now, ok? I'll need to clean it as the skin is broken... This... this may sting a bit. I promise, I'll be as gentle as I can."

Héctor nodded and took a few deep breaths in and out, a look of intense concentration on his face. Imelda traced her hand down his breastbone to the still-fastened buttons of his shirt. She slowly unfastened them until she reached the bottom of the graze, just above his navel, pulling the fabric apart to get better access. She could feel Héctor still fighting hard to steady his breathing, although whether it was excitement at her touch or anticipation of the pain, she couldn't tell. Either way, she tried to steady her breathing too, willing her hands to stop trembling.

She could see the dirt and even a few tiny stones still embedded in Héctor's broken skin. _Dios_ , if she ever got her hands on those men again, she would make them pay. As gently as she could, she wrung a little water from her cloth onto the wound, trying to clear as much of the debris as possible without actually touching the broken skin. Once she had done all she could, she took a clean cloth and the bottle of alcohol, soaking it until she was sure that she could cover the whole graze in one go. It was going to sting, for sure, but at least she wouldn't be dragging out the pain for longer than necessary.

"Ready?" she asked, her voice hoarse. " _Lo siento_ , mi amor, this is going to hurt".

"I'm sure I can be brave, as long as you promise to kiss it better afterwards," he winked back.

She smiled coyly back at him, bracing herself as she looked back down at the wound. _Come on, Imelda,_ said her brain. _Get on with it. It's not even your wound. If Héctor can bear it, so can you._ Counting to three, she gritted her teeth and pressed the cloth against Héctor's skin.

The effect was immediate. He gave a sharp cry, arching back against his makeshift bed as the pain stabbed through him like a knife. Imelda had to use both hands to keep the cloth in place, wishing that there was a way she could take it for herself instead. After a few seconds, once she was sure that the alcohol had done its job, Imelda removed the cloth, replacing it with a dry one and securing it in place to keep the wound as sterile as possible. Héctor's cries faded to pained whimpers, and the moment she had finished securing his dressing he grabbed tightly her by the hand, pulling her close to him. Her heart hurt when she saw tears of pain on his cheeks, and she gently kissed them away, running her hands through his hair and cradling his head against her arm before pressing her forehead against his.

"I'm sorry _mi amore_ ," he whispered hoarsely. "I wasn't as brave as I thought I would be."

"Today you fought off two men, each twice your size and both armed, knowing that they would probably kill you, and all to protect an undeserving, silly little girl like me," she answered quietly. "You are the bravest man in the whole of Mexico, and I love you, Héctor."

Letting out a quiet sigh of pure joy, Héctor slipped one hand behind Imelda's neck and pulled her face to his. Their lips locked together. Imelda felt as though her heart had exploded. Warmth spread throughout her chest, filling her with a wonderful tingling sensation all over. She felt the fingers of one of his hands entangling themselves in her hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss, his other hand travelling down her spine to the small of her back and pulling her tight against his body. She melted at his touch, one hand cradling his head, the other stroking his cheek, his neck, his shoulders. Her body pressed against his, every part of her seeming to take on a life of its own, separate from her brain which felt as though it had blissfully evaporated. The rest of the world disappeared. It was just him, her and this moment. Nothing else mattered.

Her hand slipped down further down his side to his hip, feeling the warmth of his skin through his thin shirt, the jutting bone of his pelvis hard against her hand. She felt him pull her even tighter against his body, and he let out a quiet moan, bringing her back to herself for a moment. Was she hurting him? She hadn't opened his shirt below his navel yet, or checked his sides for injuries- had she missed something? Suddenly worried, she broke away from his kiss and glanced down. Imelda sprung back in horror as she saw a fresh, red patch of blood soaking through the right side of his shirt in an almost perfect line, about an inch above the length of rope he was using as a belt. _Roberto's knife. He did manage to stab him._


	6. A Feeling So Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector and Imelda explore each other's talents.

"No, no, no..." she panicked. "Héctor, you're bleeding, please no-"

" _Mi amor-_ "

Imelda grabbed the front of his shirt, ripping it open so that the remaining buttons went pinging across the barn floor. She pulled the fabric from his waistband, frantically searching for the stab wound, almost knocking over the bowl of water as she sloshed the cloth over the bloodstain on his skin in her attempt to get a clearer view. She realised too late that in her panic she had forgotten to wring it out, and he was now soaked.

There was nothing there.

"Imelda, _calme_! I'm not bleeding, you are- look!" Héctor took her injured hand in his, showing her the bloodied bandage which had become unravelled. It must have loosened while she had been tending to him, and then slipped off when they were kissing. She had been too distracted to notice any pain, but the new bloodstain on his shirt matched the cut on her hand perfectly. Realisation dawned, and she cringed with embarrassment as he started to laugh, winding the bandage back around her hand and securing it with a kiss.

"You're going to get me into trouble, señorita. What will your papa say when he finds my buttons all over his barn floor, and realises that his daughter has been ripping my clothes off?" He was laughing, but his voice was still breathless from the kiss, his hands shaking.

"I thought that Roberto had managed to use that knife on you," she breathed, feeling slightly faint with relief. She lowered her head and kissed the hollow of his hip where his imagined wound had been. He exhaled quietly and shivered, his muscles tensing as her breath warmed his skin. "And now look, you're soaked." She took a dry cloth and mopped his the skin around his navel where she had accidentally spilled water all over him. His ripped shirt was hanging off his shoulders like rags, no longer covering the soft skin of his stomach which glistened with moisture. His trousers, which were far too big for him, sat low on his slender hips, their waistband and rope belt now damp from the spilled water which rolled in droplets across his abdomen. Gently, slowly, Imelda traced her cloth over his navel and down towards the knot of his belt, then across to his hip. A drop of water rolled down his skin into the hollow between his hip and his waistband, and Imelda chased it, softly dipping her fingers under the coarse fabric to catch it with her cloth.

Héctor's heart was pounding so hard it hurt. His breathing had been becoming more laboured with every touch, turning to gasps as Imelda's hands had crept down towards his waistband. The teasing of her fingers against the sensitive skin under his belt- close, too close- sent a jolt of electricity up his spine that was too intense for him to bear. He let out a yelp, arching his back and throwing his head back into the pillow of blankets as he dug his fingers deep into the hay mattress.

" _¡Dios mío!"_ His voice was three octaves higher than usual. "Imelda, please, you're killing me!" Beads of sweat had formed on his brow, his breath coming in sharp pants. He desperately wanted to sit up and grab her, kiss her, hold her- he was fighting every instinct in his body not to do more, still overwhelmed at her outpouring of love and affection towards him. _She loves me. She really loves me._ The adrenaline from today's events and the emotional letdown from all her the fear she had suffered had melted Imelda's cold exterior and allowed him to see the beautiful, passionate heart that he'd always suspected was there underneath it all. He didn't want to ruin the moment by taking advantage of her newfound vulnerability. But _Dios_ , it was taking every ounce of restraint he had ever possessed to resist her.

He tried to raise himself up, reaching out for her, but his bruised, broken body stubbornly refused to co-operate. He winced and fell back against the hay. She stood back from him, her cheeks pink, frightened and unsure.

" _Lo_... _lo siento_... was I hurting you?"

"No, no, mi amore. Very much the opposite. But I was afraid that you were going to give me a heart attack, teasing me like that." He flashed her a reassuring smile and winked. "You underestimate your power over me, señorita."

Imelda flushed, an embarrassed giggle escaping her lips as she realised what he meant. Inappropriate as she knew it was, she was secretly thrilled to know that her touch had such a powerful impact on him. She couldn't stop her mind wandering to what it would be like if he were her husband, and she could spend long nights by his side with nothing to hold them back from each other. Her spine tingled at the thought.

"Well, I'm glad it doesn't hurt."

"Ay, but it does."

She looked at him, alarmed. "Where?"

He took her hand, placing it over his heart. "Here."

She smiled and raised her eyebrows at the cliched romanticism, but she couldn't deny that it was working on her. She just couldn't help herself. His heartbeat was racing so fast that she was surprised his bruised ribs could contain it, and she felt hers speed up even more in response. He was smiling fondly at her, stroking her cheek again, looking up at her with those beautiful chestnut eyes. She climbed up onto the hay bales beside him and snuggled her head into the gap between his neck and his shoulder, draping her arm across his bare chest in a protective embrace. He sighed contentedly and turned to kiss her forehead.

"Remind me to die for you more often. This is wonderful."

"Don't even joke about it, Héctor. I couldn't bear to lose you. Don't you ever take a risk like that again. I don't want anyone to die for me, least of all you."

"Well someone already did. Poor Esperanza." He crossed himself, feigning a solemn look of mourning. "Ay, she died valiantly and with honour."

Imelda felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm so sorry about your guitar, Héctor."

"A guitar can be replaced. The love of my life cannot. It is a shame that I only had that guitar for a day, but she was a sacrifice worth making for you. Don't let yourself lose any sleep over it, _mi amor_."

Imelda's heart skipped at his words. _He called me the love of his life._

"Was that what you wanted to show me this morning? Your new guitar?"

" _Si_. I had a new song for you." He shot her a cheeky grin. "I think it's the most romantic one I've ever written, actually, but... ah, sadly you did not wish to hear it."

" _Si_ , I do!" she protested, propping herself up on one arm beside him. "How does it go? Can you sing it for me?"

"Well..." he was teasing her, feigning shyness. "I don't know, I'm not sure you'll like it... I wasn't planning on singing it for you until I was sure of how you felt about me... perhaps you could tell me again?"

She leaned over and kissed him warmly, teasing his hair with her fingers. He returned her kiss passionately, whimpering with longing when she pulled away.

 _"Dios mío,_ I will never get tired of doing that..."

"You can have more when you've sung to me."

"As you wish, _mi amore_." Héctor sighed and closed his eyes, raising his arms as though holding an invisible guitar. "So it starts with some split chords, like this. It goes _ding-ding-ding-ding..._ " He mimed playing the notes, strumming the imaginary strings with his long fingers. His eyes were closed, his thoughts lost in the music, and Imelda was sure that he could hear each note so clearly in his head that he'd forgotten he wasn't holding a real guitar.

_"A feeling so strong, you could reach out and touch it..._

_I never knew I could love someone so much, but it's true..."_

Imelda's breath caught in her chest. _He's singing about me._ His voice, soft and beautiful, made each note sound as though it had come directly from his heart. This was why he was the best _músico_ in Santa Cecilia- he didn't just sing the notes like Ernesto, belting them at the top of his lungs and hiding behind flashy costumes. Héctor's voice could bring out emotions that people didn't even know they had. He could drew people in and made them feel as though he was playing every note especially for them. In Imelda's case, she realised, he was.

_"Only your smile, only your smile, has the power to break my heart..."_

Héctor started to cough as the notes travelled higher, holding his damaged ribs. Imelda put her arms around him, soothing him as he relaxed back onto the hay.

"Shhh, _mi amore_. I look forward to hearing the rest of it, some other time when you're feeling better. It is a beautiful song. Has anyone else heard it yet?"

"No, only Ernesto. He overheard me singing it when I was practicing." Héctor grimaced. "He liked the melody, but he was not so fond of the lyrics. Too romantic, he says. I say he only feels that way because he doesn't have a señorita like you to sing them to." He winked at her. "Ernesto thinks that if we are going to be successful, we need to make our music accessible to everyone, so we should only write songs that the whole world can understand."

"And what do you think?"

"I think Ernesto can go and jump in the lake. I didn't write this song for the world. I wrote it for you."

Her heart skipped again. She leaned over and kissed his neck, feeling him shiver and melt beside her. She slid her body closer, planting tiny kisses all along his jawline, before pressing her lips to the soft spot just behind his ear.

"I love you, _mi amor_ ," she whispered.

"Oh, Imelda. My beautiful Imelda." He kissed her back, pulling her closer until her body was almost on top of his. It hurt, but he didn't care.

The moment was shattered by a knocking sound from the other side of the barn. Someone was here.


	7. Imelda's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imelda makes a few decisions.

"Señorita Imelda? Can you hear me?"

A man's voice whispered hoarsely from outside the barn door. Flustered, Imelda rolled off the bed of hay, straightening her clothes and brushing herself down as she stood up. "Stay quiet," she told Héctor. "I'll see who's out there." She cursed internally at whoever it was, resenting them for interrupting such an intimate moment.

She peered through the gap in the barn doors, and was relieved to see Rafael standing there, shuffling awkwardly with his hat in his hands.

"Code word?"

" _Tamales_."

Imelda slid back the bolts and pushed the heavy wooden beam away to allow him to enter the barn. Rafael shuffled inside, looking around nervously.

"How's the patient, Señorita? Has he woken up at all?"

"He is badly hurt. But he will live. I will make sure of it."

Rafael sighed with relief, a smile breaking across his face. He had been very worried about the poor boy- when he had first seen him lying there on that path, he had wondered whether he would even survive the journey back to the farm. But with Señorita Imelda taking care of him, Rafael doubted that Héctor would dare to die if she had forbidden him from doing so.

"Is there any news on the Hernandez brothers?"

" _Si_ , Señorita. The _policía_ caught up with them fairly quickly, with the help of a few of our men. They were in a bit of a bad way actually- one had a head full of wooden splinters and almost lost an eye courtesy of m'lady's boot heel, and the other has a broken nose and a fetching pattern of splinters in his face. Doubly unfortunate for them, as such injuries match perfectly your recount of events, which we passed onto the _policía_ on your behalf. I think that with the combination of what they tried to do to you, their attempted murder of Héctor and their recent thievery from your father, we can expect a fairly long and unpleasant prison sentence for our friend Roberto and his brother."

Imelda smiled with relief. So the Hernandez brothers were behind bars. Héctor was safe from them.

"Señorita, your parents will be staying at your aunt's home tonight with your brothers. They still have some paperwork to deal with at the police station, and the _policía_ will also need to take official statements from yourself and Héctor when you're both ready. Your Mamá has requested that I bring you to your aunt's house immediately. Daniel has offered to stay in the barn tonight and watch over Héctor." He gestured to the cart, which he had prepared outside.

"I will not leave Héctor tonight. I don't care what my Mamá says." Imelda was firm, scowling at Rafael in defiance. "I haven't finished tending to all of his injuries yet. Besides, until the doctor has seen him we don't know that he is out of danger. He could still be bleeding internally, we can only see the surface damage. Daniel is a child, he would not know what to do if Héctor took a bad turn in the night. No, I will stay here in the barn. Héctor saved my life today. He needs me. Tell my Mamá what you will, but I am going nowhere."

"I thought you might say that. Don't worry Señorita, I will not argue with you. Leave your Mamá to me, I will think of a good excuse as to why you couldn't come." Rafael gave a mischievous smile and winked at her. "When Héctor wakes up again... tell him he owes me a drink."

Imelda searched her brain for something to say, to protest her pure and innocent motives for staying with Héctor, to scold Rafael for the presumptuous way his mind seemed to have strayed. But before she could argue, he reached forward and pulled a strand of hay from her hair.

"I was young once too, Señorita. Do not worry. I understand. Héctor is a very lucky man. You take good care of him. You can trust old Rafael." He winked again and stepped back outside the barn, closing the door behind him. Imelda stood speechless and flustered, unsure what to do. She heard footsteps, then Daniel's young voice outside.

"Where is Señorita Imelda? Is she ready to go?"

"No, _mijo_. It seems that Señorita Imelda has fallen asleep. She has had a very hard day, I thought it best not to wake her. I have left a message for her under the door, she will get it in the morning. In the meantime, let's leave her be. They both need their rest."

Imelda heard the sound of the cart pulling away, the soft clopping of the horses' hooves fading away as they headed back towards town. Imelda replaced the beam across the doors and slid the metal bolts to secure it. Mamá would not be happy, but she didn't care. She needed to be with Héctor. She would go into town tomorrow, if Héctor was feeling well enough for her to leave him for a few hours, and she could deal with both her Mamá and the _policía_ then. It would also give her the opportunity to go to the jewellers, where she could see how much money she could get for that stupid flashy ruby that Roberto had stolen from her. She never wore it anyway, and she could think of a much better use for that money- specifically, the glossy white guitar with beautiful black and gold markings that she had seen sitting in the window of the music shop. It was the least she could do for Héctor after today.

She returned to where Héctor lay, kneeling beside him again. His big, chestnut eyes were watching her uncertainly, a strange look of adoration and concern on his face.

"You chose to stay here with me tonight."

" _Si_. I want to take care of you. Is that not what you want?"

"Of course it is. If I could choose, I would never have you leave my side. But Imelda..." he faltered, reaching out to take her hand. "You staying here with me tonight... people will talk."

"Then let them talk."

"Your honour, Imelda. If people think that you and I... you know... well, it could damage your prospects. You know... for marriage. All your wealthy suitors will think... I don't want to cause any trouble for you."

Imelda felt anger rising in her chest. Was he serious? After everything that had happened between them that day, did he really still think that she was planning to marry some flashy rich _idiota_ for his money? Her anger dissipated when she saw tears gathering in his eyes.

"I love you, Imelda. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. But I know that I am not good enough to be your husband." His voice was tight. He blinked up at the ceiling, unable to meet her gaze. "I have heard your parents talking, and they are right. I could not keep you in the comfort that you are used to. I don't have the social standing that you deserve. You deserve the world, Imelda. You deserve to marry someone who can give you the world."

"You are my world, _mi amor_." She could feel a lump in her throat. How could he think he wasn't good enough for her? She didn't want some rich, preening peacock. She wanted Héctor and his chestnut eyes, his beautiful smile, his cute dimple. She wanted his soothing voice, and the way he looked at her. She wanted the way he squirmed when she tickled his neck, the way he clung to her when she kissed him, the feel of his racing heartbeat against her hand. She wanted everything about him.

She gently placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face to look at her. His eyes were burning with emotion. She stroked his hair back and kissed his forehead tenderly.

"There is nobody else on this earth I could ever consider giving my heart to but you. I am yours. I don't care what my Mamá says, or my papa, or anyone else. Let them talk. They can keep their silk dresses and fancy jewels. I will have you, and you are all that I will ever want."

"I don't understand why. I don't have any money, any influence, I don't even have a name to give you."

"Well, that can easily be fixed. You'll just have to marry some lucky girl who can share her good name with you instead, won't you?" She winked at him, and he smiled broadly back at her, tears still in his eyes. He took her hand and kissed it fervently, placing it against his cheek. Her heart was on fire, but she cleared her throat and put on a straight face, teasing him again. "Now, enough of this nonsense. I still haven't finished cleaning you up yet. If you keep distracting me like you were before, this could take some time." She rolled up her sleeves.

Héctor's eyes widened.

"There's more to come? Ay Imelda, I'm not sure my heart can cope!"

"Then you'd better brace yourself. I haven't even got to your legs yet." She put her hand on his thigh, and he felt as though his heart was about to jump out of his mouth. "Come on, I need to take a look at your shoulders and your back first. Let's get the rest of this filthy shirt off you. Not that we can even really call it that any more, I think it's gone a little past its best."

He closed his eyes and relaxed back into the hay with a smile, allowing Imelda to gently pull away what was left of his shirt, stroking and kissing his exposed skin as she did so. In spite of his injuries, he had never felt better in his life. He was exhausted, but he didn't want to sleep, afraid that he might wake up to find that the last few hours had all been a dream. She loved him. She really loved him. The words that he'd been dreaming of hearing for so long, and today had been the day. Now he had all night to look forward to as well, with her touching him with those beautiful fingers and kissing him until he forgot that there was anything in the world outside of this barn. A whole night of her lying beside him, letting him hold her as they both fell asleep in each other's arms. The promise of more nights, too. Hadn't she essentially said that she would be willing to marry him? To finally have a name, _her_ name, to have her as his wife, to raise a family with her... it was more than he could've ever wished for. He sighed happily as he felt her lips press against his again, snaking his arms around her waist to pull her closer to him again. Only this time, he wasn't certain that he would have the self-control to tell her to stop.

 _Héctor Rivera,_ he thought. _Now that's a name I could get used to._


End file.
